If I live to tell

I’ll tell of pride.

My life is a bruised bleeding pain because I refuse to let go of the stone that makes me trip over and over again.
This stone of mine, this stone of pride. What shall I do with it. Where can it go?

My whole life that I am aware of, pride has always led me to downfall into the pits of darkness and landing on the cold hard ground of not wanting shame.

The stone rehearsed through the years have been hidden well, and everyday I hope my boxing and kicking will make it crumble. Yet everyday it seems to be staying strong.

Silly stupid stone of self.

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